| In my dream you are slippery
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| My interest grows immediately
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| You have seaweed between your fingers, lips and limbs
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| Amphibious, androgynous
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| Amphibious, ninety-eight percent water
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| I try to write love songs
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| But my words remain in my hands
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| And my hands fall to the floor
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| Somewhere in the distance something hurts
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| I dream I have a lover made out of twigs
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| I snap his legs, and snap his lips when we kiss
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| Yes you’re him!
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| The way it goes, this worries me
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| The dream doesn’t fade, it keeps worrying me
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| I try not to hurt you, but in my dream the twigs keep breaking
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| I tug so gently but they snap
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| And when you open your mouth to speak, you make no sound
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| Silently coughing up black sap
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| In real life I haven’t even seen you up close, only from below
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| In the dream you are silent and I am ??
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| I try to write love songs
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| But with every word I can hear the twigs breaking
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| Somewhere in the distance something hurts
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| The next day it is I who break
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| It’s a clear spring day and I fill with sky
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| Ninety-eight percent blue
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| The day I find myself downing black things:
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| Coffee, raisins, raw chocolate
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| I can feel my bones burn to coal
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| My blood burns to oil
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| Black soap, I’m becoming you |